Page 92 of One Big Little Secret

Patton smiles and glances at me again.

“I’m in the mood for a margherita style with extra garlic, if they have it,” he says. “But I’ll get the pizzas. My treat for you guys on a crappy night.”

Oof.

I can’t bring myself to protest.

God, now I’m letting this man treat us. I’m letting him in my home, letting him look into my life, and somehow, I need to find a way to be okay with that.

Okay enough to share some simple pizza without freaking out.

“Ready when you are, boss.” Smiling unevenly, I help Arlo out of his seat, and we hurry to the building.

Patton leads the way. I can tell by the way he walks that he’s checking to make sure our path is salted and safe. I’m glad the maintenance folks are good about that here.

The cold nips at my face and seizes my lungs. I try to tell myself it’s the only reason I’m struggling to breathe as we stumble over the last snowy patch inside.

All three of us.

Here we go, primed for our next disaster.

It’s just pizza, idiot,I tell myself.

But I know it’s not.

It’s an existential threat to my world.

Whatever else happens, we can’t have any relationship that crosses professional wires when it will bring him too close to the truth about Arlo.

And if my moral compass ever stops spinning—if Ichooseto tell him about his son—it has to be onmyterms. Not because I’m falling apart and dumping everything in one long, chaotic panic attack after a rotten night.

As we take the elevator to my floor, I wonder what I’m really getting myself into with this pizza party.

Just how much damage can my heart take when I bring Patton Rory home?

12

PEPPERONI PLAY (PATTON)

In hindsight, I might have overreacted.

The problem is I don’t regret it.

The logical thing to do was exactly what she asked—arranging a tow to take her home and get her shit sorted.

That’s what any self-respecting boss looking out for an employee would do in my position.

Me? I had to freak the hell out and go in guns blazing the instant I knew they were stuck in the storm. The edge in her voice on the phone—fuck, I’ve never moved so fast in my life.

Now, here I am, tucked away in her small, warm apartment while Arlo talks himself up as reigning karate champ of the world. The kid makes it sound like he was born with black belt in his blood.

Must be from his mother’s side since he sure as hell didn’t get it from his ghost of a dad.

Salem watches us, sitting across from me in an armchair with fabric tape holding one ripped seam together.

I can’t quite read the expression in her eyes.

Something haunted, wistful, a wariness I probably deserve.

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